“I’m a writer. I observe people.”

Alberto renewed his nervous pacing.

I leaned back. “Mayra said you offered to take her away with the money from your inheritance.”

He stopped in front of the cross to straighten it, but perhaps he was asking for guidance. He faced it for a moment while I studied the back of his head, the tense muscles supporting his neck, the disheveled hair behind his ears.

“You know I don’t count on that money anymore.”

“Yes. It was very noble of you to renounce your portion.”

I couldn’t read anything in his expression. He fixed his eyes on mine.

“Can I trust that you will keep silent about . . . about the incident with Mayra?”

An incident. For him, that was all it was, whereas for Mayra it had meant her entire life changed forever.

Instead of answering his question, I wanted to confront him, to corner him into confessing if he’d been the one to hire Franco to kill me. But I didn’t know how to do that without making myself vulnerable.

What if the things he told Mayra were true? What if he had a plan to make enough money for the two of them to leave Vinces for good and start over where no one knew them? If he found out about the baby after renouncing his inheritance, he couldn’t just take it back without making his sisters suspicious. But if this stranger coming to claim his father’s money died and her portion was divided among the three remaining siblings, he could take the money and say it was for a charity or any other noble cause. He could leave then with Mayra, say he was going to another parish. Had he done that? Was he capable of not only breaking his vow of celibacy and lying to the community but also committing the major sin of murdering his older sister?

“I have no interest in exposing you,” I said finally. “I just wanted to know if the things Mayra told me were true. What you do about the incident with her is entirely up to you and your conscience.”

With that, I walked out, more confused than ever.

CHAPTER 32

CHAPTER 32

The next day, I awoke to a medley of angry voices downstairs.

I tightened the corset around my sore breasts and donned my husband’s clothes as quickly as possible. Fighting my nerves, I stepped out of the room.

Calm down, Puri.

My encounters with Martin and Alberto had made me vulnerable. I’d cornered Alberto with my knowledge of his secret. Martin had discovered my farce. At any given time, someone might confront me and expose me in front of the entire family. And where would that lead? They might call the police, attack me, and if that happened before I found out the truth, all my efforts would’ve been in vain. My apprehension might not be rational, but emotions generally weren’t.